All I Want For Christmas: Holiday Romance Page 13

  Parker’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  Saylor’s smile was sad. “Really. Cole wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it.”

  Parker grinned, a toothless grin, with a lasso to string right around his heart. Stupid. Cole was so stupid. He should retract it now, take back every word, pull her to him and kiss her. Tell her he was wrong. He was sorry. He wanted to keep things as they were.

  The cat wriggled until it managed to leap from his arms. Parker darted off to chase it again, when Saylor gave him a firm, but kind, request that it was time to go.

  “Aww,” Parker groaned. With the fortitude some of Cole’s workers should envy, the little boy obeyed his mother and waited patiently by the door.

  Sniffling, Saylor bravely met Cole’s gaze. “Goodbye, Cole.”

  Cole clenched his teeth. His fists. His shoulders as well. He deserved for her to call him every name in the book right now, but she stoically turned and ushered her son out the door before he could say a word.

  Chapter Twenty

  For whatever reason, Saylor didn’t cry again. She couldn’t. The well was dry, used up as she’d exerted every effort she had to spread her soul across Cole’s front room.

  She couldn’t say she was that surprised at how things had turned out. She’d braced herself for him to end things with her.

  It was just that a tiny part of her had hoped Cole would prove her wrong.

  Saylor almost thought he had. There was a moment when she felt he was listening to her, really listening, connecting with her and showing sympathy for her foolishness. He’d been so kind, so heartfelt and understanding. Talking about past mistakes, and how amazing she was because of them.

  That had been the point of hope. The thought that maybe, just maybe, this could work. Too bad the thought had become a traitor.

  “How come we left so fast, Mommy?” Parker asked from the backseat.

  Saylor worked to keep her voice steady. “Because we need to get Grandma’s car back to her.”

  “Oh right. Because your car is sick.”

  Any other time, this would have drawn a chuckle from her, but Saylor simply peered at him through the rear view mirror. “That’s right, bud.”

  She really didn’t want to go back to her parents’ house, but she couldn’t exactly keep driving her mom’s car around.

  “I like Cole,” Parker went on.

  Saylor’s eyes smarted. “Me too.”

  She wanted to lash out at her brother for ruining yet another relationship for her, but as she turned onto her parents’ street and saw his beater collecting snow at the curb, a different impulse overtook her.

  She was exhausted. So tired, so done with holding onto this stupid grudge. What good was it doing her, other than making her miserable and ruining perfectly good visits to new boyfriend’s apartments?

  Forgiving her brother had been a long time coming. But now, after her mother’s words, after Cole’s reminder about letting the past stay where it belonged, and then snipping through her dangling hope with a pair of invisible scissors, the urgency coursing through her was unmistakable.

  It was time. It was finally time to let the past go.

  I can do this, she told herself.

  She could. It was time to move on.

  She drifted into the driveway and shifted into park. Her hands gripped the steering wheel while a storm of emotions raged inside of her. Going inside seemed like such a simple thing. Open the door. Take the dozen steps into the living room.

  Face her brother.

  A cluster of doubt catapulted like tossed bricks, cracking through her resolve. Fear slipped its way in behind her sternum. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t make up with Greg, hear him out, tell him how badly he’d hurt her. Not after what she’d just gone through with Cole.

  Yet, a new sensibility slipped through, adding its voice to the argument. It encouraged her steps. How she wished she could dance in the snow, to examine the marks her feet left in the fresh powder the way Parker was doing, to be so carefree again.

  This was her best chance at that.

  As she headed for her parents’ front door, a posh, black Lexus slowed at the end of the driveway. Parker began flapping his arms.

  “Dad, Dad, Dad!”

  Saylor’s insides turned to icicles. David was the last person she wanted to see right now. She wiped at her cheeks, praying mascara hadn’t decided to scribble across her cheeks or temples. She really needed to go home and change. A shower would be nice, too. If only she could drip down the drain right along with the water right now.

  “What are you doing here at my parents’ house?” Saylor demanded, forgetting everything else for the moment. David had no right to ram in here. It’d been bad enough to bump into him at Rock Creek unannounced.

  “Daddy!” Parker leapt up and down in the snow before making a mad dash toward his father, as though the man would vanish in seconds.

  David crouched, welcoming Parker into his arms with a hug. “Hey, Sport.”

  Saylor plodded to join them. “What are you doing here?” she demanded again. Unwittingly, she thought of Cole. She couldn’t fathom what he must think of her.

  David released Parker, rumpled his hair, and handed Saylor an envelope in answer to her question. “I would’ve just mailed yours, but I wanted to talk to you about the day of the wedding.”

  “The day of the—what? She tore the envelope and perused its contents. It was a professional exhibition of Amanda and David’s faces blaring superficially white teeth and over-tweezed brows, utterly and thoroughly posed in magazine-like perfection on the five by seven inch card. It was a nice picture, she thought grudgingly.

  She took in the date. January eighth. “One week? I thought your wedding was this coming summer.”

  David shuffled uncomfortably. “It was. Amanda changed her mind. She decided we should move things up to avoid questions.”

  Saylor’s brow knitted. “Avoid questions about what?”

  David cleared his throat and went on. “Since you weren’t at home, and you didn’t answer your phone—”

  “You thought you could just barge in over here.” Saylor folded her arms, letting the invite crumple. She wished she had one of those lighters so she could hold it up and burn it right in front of him. Let it singe to a crisp in the snow.

  David shrugged. “Anyway, I need you to come pick up Parker beforehand and get him ready for us.”

  A semi-truck could have hit her and it would have been less of a surprise. “You need me to get our son ready for your wedding? It’s your weekend with him.”

  “Like you have something better to do.” David’s tone was nothing short of snarky.

  Defensiveness rippled through her. She wanted to run and hide. She wanted to smack him. She bolstered her courage, thinking of the only thing her mind would allow right then.

  “I have plans that night.”

  David’s smile was incredulous. “You’re talking about the guy I saw you with at Rock Creek?”

  Why did he have to sound so condescending? Was it really that impossible to believe she could find someone else too? Assuming Cole still wanted anything to do with her after her confession. She couldn’t fathom what he must think of her now he knew the truth. She couldn’t say she hadn’t tried warning him.

  “He seems like a real catch.” David’s words dripped with sarcasm.

  He is, she wanted to scream. Or was. He was a gentleman, respected by his coworkers; thoughtful, sweet, good with kids and he knew exactly what was wrong with her car after one quick glance. He listened to her with tenderness and attempts at understanding. He was more of a catch than David ever was.

  A catch who may not give her a second chance, now that she’d treated him like a hotel busboy and unloaded all her baggage on him.

  “You delivered your invite. Go home.”

  “You still haven’t given me an answer.”

  “Go, David.”

  He smiled, upsetting her all
the more. “Six o’clock Saturday,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll tell the dry cleaners you’ll be picking up Parker’s suit. Make sure he’s ready in time so we aren’t late. We need him there in time for pictures.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Saylor’s legs were weak. Her ears were ringing. Her entire frame shook from the injustice of it. With mental numbness, she took Parker’s hand and made her way inside. She kicked the snow from her shoes and sank onto her parents’ couch.

  The warmth of their home enveloped her, as did the smell of banana muffins baking. A cheery fire snapped in the glass fireplace in the corner, but Saylor saw it for what it really was. A taunt, with its heat and ability to destroy if anything got too close. Was anything ever as it seemed?

  Saylor sank her head into her hands.

  The confrontation with Cole, the emotional whiplash from pouring her heartache to him. Reawakening those old emotions had been like enduring them all over again. Now David storming in and making demands was the proverbial straw on the camel’s back.

  Saylor heard her mom. “Honey?”

  She spoke without looking at her. “Why did he have to come here? Why did he meet her, why did any of this have to happen?”

  Saylor wasn’t sure if her mom had a clue who she was talking about. Had she seen David’s approach outside? He may have knocked and waited outside when he realized Saylor wasn’t there.

  She lifted her head to find her mom sitting on the coffee table across from her, face crinkled in pity or sorrow. Or both. Her mom gnawed her bottom lip, her silence being welcome company.

  Greg shuffled out of the kitchen, a plate of cookies in hand this time. For whatever reason, the real question of the evening scoured through her, hotter than the mug of chocolate her mother offered her.

  Why did everyone in her life leave her? Was she so unloveable?

  Back in high school, Saylor had been certain she and Caleb would be together. Then he’d chosen a different path, gone on to serve in the military, and had later died in his service. Their breakup had crushed her so much so that she’d overdosed on Greg’s pills in his bag at the party that night.

  Then David. That was a different level of rejection all on its own, seeming to hit repeatedly every time she saw him. She knew Cole had to be upset too. He hadn’t shown it, but why else would he claim he needed time or that they needed to see other people?

  She’d had to tell him the truth, though. It needed to be out in the open.

  “I’m a nice person, aren’t I?” Saylor said to the room, voicing her heartbreak. “Sure, I make mistakes, just like anyone. But I’m trying.”

  “I think you’re nice,” Parker said, his innocent, sweet face melting some of her pain and winning a smile. Greg offered her a cookie, setting the plate on the coffee table beside their mother when Saylor declined. He roosted in the large armchair across from her, resting his elbows on his legs.

  “Nobody’s nicer than you are,” her older brother said. “Sometimes things just happen that we can’t control. And they don’t have anything to do with how nice we are.”

  “How would you know?” Anger stirred in the heated emotions of the morning. You’re the definition of a screw-up, Saylor wanted to add, but she held back the hurtful words. It was her anger speaking. She’d had multiple hours of therapy to help her cope with exactly this, though it took several more long breaths to keep from saying everything she was thinking.

  “I know I’m not perfect, Saylor,” Greg said. “I know I’ve done a lot to hurt you. I wish I could tell you how sorry I am, but if anyone has shown me what a good person is, it’s you.”

  She sniffled. “Yeah. I’m the poster child.”

  “I mean it,” Greg said. “You kept going. You helped Caleb’s family after he died, even though Caleb hurt you. Then when things got hard again, you got help. That takes a strong person, Saylor. Now look at you. Even though everything seems to crumble around you, you refuse to let it. You’re working; you’re taking care of your son. You make sure he’s not with that loser every night.” Greg pointed a thumb toward the front door, and she let out a hesitant chuckle.

  “You make sure he’s got clothes, food to eat, a place to live. He’s lucky to have a resilient mother like you.”

  Saylor stared at her brother as if seeing him for the first time. Was this the same person? The brother their cousin, Beckham, had to intervene for constantly to keep him from going to jail, the same one who’d been found hammered outside of a dumpster, the same brother on a one-way track to nowhere? He was making her sound like some kind of saint.

  A part of her heart softened. A part she’d kept hard for far too long.

  “Thank you,” she told him. He’d made her sound strong, when she felt like the farthest thing from it.

  “I told Cole the truth, about what happened. Between that and David barking orders at me, it’s just—”

  “David needs to know you’re not at his beck and call anymore,” her mom said with a snarl. She reached out and took Saylor’s hand, waiting to speak until Saylor met her gaze. Saylor viewed conviction there. Conviction and love. Her heart warmed that much more.

  “As for Cole. Whatever happened between you two, if he’s the one, he’ll get over it,” her mom added, perching on the armrest beside Greg. Side by side, their resemblance was clear. Despite his scratchy beard, he had their mother’s eyes and nose.

  “I worry I’ve pushed him away,” Saylor said.

  “You don’t know that,” her mom argued.

  “He’ll come around. You could be worse,” Greg said. “Believe me. I know.”

  To Saylor’s surprise, a chuckle escaped. Her mom and Greg followed. Parker joined in, hopping and laughing like he grasped the joke, and soon enough, they were all laughing, lightening the mood considerably. It still didn’t eliminate the wedge in her chest, but it took away some of the load.

  “What you’ve got to figure out is how to not let David get to you anymore,” her mom said. “That part of your life is over, sweetheart. You need to let it be over.”

  “You don’t want Dad to get you stuff?” Parker asked. He blinked, looking cute, confused, and loveable.

  “No, he’s got Amanda for that now,” Saylor said, hugging him close. Her mother was right. Was that why David thought he had the right to keep ordering her around? Because Saylor was allowing him to?

  “And me,” Parker said. “He still gets me stuff.”

  Saylor peered into her little boy’s eyes. So sweet, so innocent. Eager to love, willing to look past the stupid things Saylor did, willing to look past the pain his parents’ separation had caused him. So eager to let bygones be.

  A piece of her shifted at the realization, like a seed in hard ground finally opening enough to get water.

  “Thanks,” Saylor told them all.

  One by one they exchanged hugs. First, her mother’s small frame. Then Parker’s tiny embrace. Then Greg’s smell of caramel and soap washed over her as he pulled her into an hug.

  It was, in a word, restorative.

  Her muscles slackened. Her breathing came slow and easy. She was weightless. For the first time in years, where her brother was concerned, she had no desire to be anywhere else. A connection strung between them, a steady, calm satisfaction.

  Saylor suspected similar emotions channeled through Greg, too, because he stepped away with languid motion and gave her a soft smile. In that smile, she saw her brother. Her real brother. The one she’d known as a child, the one who’d been neglected and forgotten by a different version of himself. The one who he was trying to be again.

  Their mom stood beside them with a hand on each of their shoulders. Tears were pooling in her eyes, and she examined them with motherly pride.

  “Mom, can you give us a ride home?” Saylor asked. Much as she appreciated their support, she was longing to get home and change.

  “I got it.” Greg moved faster than anyone expected. Hurriedly, he slipped into his weather-beaten coat, shoes, and bean
ie and waited for Saylor and Parker by the door.

  She could imagine what others who didn’t know him might see, with his scruffy beard and ragged clothes. After helping Parker, they tramped out into the snow, and Greg not only got Saylor’s door, but he even helped Parker into the backseat.

  Usually Greg blasted music Saylor couldn’t stand, but he left his radio blessedly, strangely silent. It made for awkwardness between them, in that I-don’t-know-what-to-say kind of way.

  “Thanks for this,” she told him as she directed him to her house.

  “Just glad I can help my little sister out for once.”

  He sounded so remorseful. She needed to help him understand. Something had changed within her toward him.

  “Greg—”

  “I came to tell Mom I’m turning things around. I got a real good job, Saylor. Real good.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” she said with truth.

  Things hadn’t always been this strained between them. There were other memories too, good ones. Of trick or treating. Of Greg helping her with her paper route. Of hugging him after she’d found him crying in his bedroom when their dog had gotten poisoned. They’d been friends once; they could be again.

  “Make sure you keep it up,” she said, punching his arm.

  His smile was feeble as he pulled in front of Saylor’s house. “I will. I hope to.”

  They idled a few minutes in silence, his little car rumbling beneath her boots. Greg leaned over to take in Saylor’s small, brick, boxy house with its old screen door and slanted roof.

  “This is cute,” he said.

  “It’s home.” Saylor wasn’t sure she’d call it cute, but she was grateful for this little house. “How long are you staying?”

  “Until tomorrow,” Greg said, drumming his fingers on the wheel. His legs fidgeted too. She wondered how long it’d been since he had a fix. That couldn’t be an easy habit to break, and if he truly was trying, she was proud of him for it. “New year’s here. Guess I gotta get back to my job.”

  The back door slammed shut. Parker had already made his way out on the snow-bordered sidewalk. He knocked on her window a few times, gesturing for Saylor to join him.